


Don't leave me

by Llamadramaphan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Loneliness, M/M, Sam's worried, Smut, Worried Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 02:43:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5726761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llamadramaphan/pseuds/Llamadramaphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean goes on a hunting trip, Sam goes to pick him up at the airport - only for there to be no Dean in sight.<br/>He basically freaks out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't leave me

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed writing this, bc I generally feel like Sam is someone who breaks his pretty head worrying over people - especially his brother.   
> Dean calms him down, smut ensues - but not really graphic one.   
> So yeah, fluffy ending basically-  
> Enjoy!
> 
> (all mistakes are mine)

It had been almost a month.  
A month since he had last seen his big brother, a month since they had shared a bone crushing hug at the airport, with Sam trying to repress his urge to hold onto Dean’s shirt, forcing him to stay with him. To not leave. They both knew it was necessary – Dean had to work a job and with Sam’s broken leg he was unable to hunt with him, let alone get on a plane and sit there for hours, cramped in between tiny seats.   
Nope, Dean had to work this one by himself.  
Turns out though, the monster he and the overseas hunters were going after was more blood thirsty than presumed, forcing Dean to stay longer than the week they had both planned in.  
And no, Sam wasn’t a wreck.  
Course not.  
“Fuck…where are you, jerk…” Sam muttered, playing with the hem of his shirt as his right leg swung over his left, which had been freed of its cast since Dean had been gone.  
It still felt a little uncomfortable to move it too fast or too often, but he could deal.  
What he could not deal with, was the fact that the plane Dean had taken had already landed, with passengers spilling into the wide hall of the airport, families re-uniting and hugging each other to Sam’s left and right.  
He only noticed that he was glaring at a pair of friends, practically crushing each other with bear-hugs, when one of them turned to look at him, one eyebrow quirking up in a ‘the fuck’s your problem, man?’ matter. Sam’s look quickly diverted, his hands linking awkwardly in his lap as he tried getting rid of the blush on his cheeks. Everything was loud, people screaming, people crying and even though Sam attempted to feel guilty about his envy towards all these folks, he just couldn’t. Because they had their loved ones in their arms, unlike him, sitting on this stupid metallic bench, uncomfortable and cold, waiting for his brother that still hadn’t shown up, even now that all other passengers had slowly started to scramble.  
He wasn’t there.  
He wasn’t coming.  
Sam sighed, staring at his knuckles, suddenly not feeling the strength within himself to look out for his brother anymore, just silently waiting for to see those bow-legs stand in front of him, along with the whole package, big smile, crinkling eyes and “Heya Sammy.” on his lips.  
Minutes passed.   
He felt the stare of other people on him, probably pitying him, realizing that the person he had been waiting for was probably not coming, and when the airport was finally almost empty again, Sam dared to look up.  
No one.   
No bow legs.   
No crinkling eyes.  
No big smile and stupid nickname.  
No Dean.  
Sam could feel something in his stomach drop, a dark feeling pooling and storming in there, a vice grip on his heart and insides, getting tighter and tighter with every second that passed, every stranger walking by, every silent moment.   
A look on the clock told him that he had been waiting for almost half an hour now.   
“Dean…you fucking jackass…”   
Don’t freak out Winchester…he’s gonna be okay…maybe he just…maybe he just missed his flight…maybe something went wrong – god no, that wasn’t a very positive thought. Again, a sigh left Sam’s lips, louder and deeper than the prior ones, as he fished his phone out of his pocket. It was a throwaway thing, old model, zero to none numbers saved in its contacts. But there was one Sam clicked on now, panic seeping through him like cold water, as he waited for Dean to pick up.  
“Please…please…”  
But of course, Sam’s pleas weren’t met with more than useless ringing, loud enough to echo in his ears as he put the phone back. Something was wrong.   
Something was very fucking wrong.  
Sam felt the urge to jump up, maybe even fucking take the next flight to the state Dean had traveled to – but then the delayed movement of his leg, still rested when the other one had already flexed, ready to stand up, reminded him of why that wasn’t that good of an idea.  
If Dean was in trouble – even if he’d manage to find the dumbass – he wouldn’t be able to help much anyway. And Dean not being able to get away from the monster…that would mean that the thing was way more dangerous than anticipated.   
Sam remembered the last phone call he had shared with Dean, remembered the laid back tone his brother had sported as he stated that the monster had killed two other people, one of them a hunter Dean was meant to work with, and that he would stay one more night, in which they would finally gank the thing.  
That was two days ago.  
No more phone calls, no more texts – apart from the stupid ‘this town got hot ass waiters’, meant to piss Sam off, since Dean had found out just how jealous his baby brother could get.  
And now?  
Nothing but silence and worry, Sam’s panic slowly overtaking him, right leg jumping up and down in the way it always did when he was nervous.   
An hour.  
A fucking hour – and no sight of Dean.  
This was too much…Sam knew that. He knew that ever since Dean had gone to hell, and ever since Cas had left them without a word, that he was on edge.   
Not on the edge of breaking – but on the edge of letting everything slip through that he had been keeping in for so long, holding back and hiding behind a mask of distance and cold, always making sure that his eyes were fixating…not warm like Dean’s. Warm and so...so wonderfully green. Sam felt as if every time he looked into those eyes, he was staring straight into a forest during the warm months of April or June, with birds bickering in the background, with dirt sticking to his shoes and the smell of grass hitting his nostrils.  
Dean’s eyes were home.  
They were everything Sam had ever known, everything he had ever wanted.  
When he came home from school days, after being tormented for either his height or living situation, those eyes were about the only thing that could calm him down, when Dean had been on a hunting trip and got back with bloodshot eyes and wounds covering his body – Sam was reminded of these situations right now, as he was sitting with his head in his palms, pressing against his closed eyes.  
He was waiting for Dean once again, waiting for him to come back from a trip, just that he wouldn’t arrive with one of Dad’s arms slung over his shoulder, instead alone, probably beaten up worse than any time before – and Sam wasn’t there to help.  
All he could do was sit there and simply…wait.  
Another look on the clock.  
One and a half hours.  
It was getting dark outside – the landscape behind the glass walls of the airport, dipped into black and blue and Sam was still restless, feeling as if it was the middle of the day and he was just about to dig up a grave and do another good old salt ‘n burn.  
There was something boiling in his stomach, raging and burning, eating away from his inner strength to hold himself together.  
It was like his worst nightmare had become true, the nightmare of Dean never coming back. The nightmare that had haunted small teenage Sam into staying awake all night, his eyes burning with tears as he rolled from one side to the other, breath coming out in quick bursts as he desperately tried telling himself that Dean was gonna be fine – he always was fine. Always.  
He could never die…he- he was Dean…well just that that whole thing had stopped being calming when Dean legitimately died. For real. Not coming back for months, leaving Sam to himself, alone in his grief and sorrow, causing him to stay in motel rooms for weeks on end. He had never told Dean about this. Never informed him how the months without his big brother had been worse than any hell he could ever imagine – it was better not having him know.  
And right now, he was reliving all those lonely nights, the depressing months and heart-breaking moments where he was reminded of Dean’s freckles, every one of them displayed on his cheeks, just that, mixed with Sam’s masochistic brain, they were suddenly torn apart, ripped to shreds, bits and pieces of skin hanging from bone, blood covering the once healthy, milky skin.  
It was happening again.   
Blank bones, flesh cut through, blood seeping through the cliffs – Sam was at his breaking point. He knew it. Tried to hold himself back, tried blinking the image of his dead, violently bleeding brother away, head still remaining in his hands as he attempted stopping the whimpers as they were about to seep through his lips.   
Dean. Claws tearing down his torso, cuts deep enough for the flesh to part, Dean’s screams ringing through Sam’s consciousness.  
“F-fuck…”  
His breaths were coming out in short, violent bursts, lips quivering as tears stung his eyes, spilling over and painting his cheeks as he kept his head low, shoulders moving up and down quickly.  
Dean was dead.  
Of course he was.  
The monster had gotten him, torn him to shreds and left his body somewhere, bleeding out with a whisper of Sam’s name on his plush lips. Sam would receive a call from one of the hunters Dean teamed up with, who would voice his apologies and tell him how Dean had been a great hunter, one of the greatest in their time– as if Sam didn’t know that.  
He knew that Dean was awesome in what he was doing – even though he refrained from telling his brother this, since his already big ego didn’t need some more inflating.   
Sam did feel regret now though, regret that he hadn’t told Dean just how much he meant to him, that he never let his brother know how he looked up to him.  
It was too late now.  
Dean was dead – just two months after they had finally stopped tip-toeing around each other and their feelings, just two months after they had shared that kiss Sam had been waiting for all his life, the memory of it still lingering on his lips.   
They hadn’t gotten more intimate than that, but it was already enough.   
Enough for Sam to feel content, deeply sated whenever Dean’s mouth connected to his, their tongues meeting in the middle as they leaned into one another, bodies so close they were almost morphing into one.  
But that was over now too.  
And there’d be no angel there to pull Dean up again – he probably wouldn’t even want to come back. Why should he? This world had done nothing but torment him, taking everything he had ever loved, only letting him keep Sam – Sam, his fucked up little brother, the one infected with demon blood, the one who was the monster’s favourite – their ‘boyking’.  
He could just stay up in heaven, where he’d meet mom again, dad, ash…and he’d finally be freed of his stupid, monster of a brother.  
“Sammy…?”  
Sam didn’t dare to look up.  
He kept his head low, whimpers and grunts leaving his mouth as tears spilled, creating dark spots in his plaid shirt as he shook his head, not too sure if he wasn’t just imagining things.  
“Sammy look at me.”  
A strong hand came to grip around Sam’s own, pulling it away softly, fingers immediately turning wet by the tears streaming down his brother’s cheeks.   
“Sammy…what…”  
“You-“ Sam stopped, his voice cracking halfway through the first vocal, his chin finally tilting up to look at his brother – his brother that was standing there, bow legs and freckles and all, not even a hint of blood in sight.  
“Shh Sammy…”  
Dean’s arm came to wrap around Sam’s shoulders, pulling him towards himself, Sam’s head bumping against his brother’s chest and then coming to rest against his neck, his hands digging and clinging to the jacket Dean was wearing, tugging him impossibly closer.  
“You’re okay…we’re okay…everything’s okay…”  
The words were soft, whispered into Sam’s ears as the younger brother shook and whimpered, tears staining Dean’s shoulder and skin on his neck.  
“No De- De I thought you were- thought you weren’t go-onna come, thought I lo-ost you again, thought you died, thought I wasn’t…wasn’t gonna-a see…you ever a-again.”  
Their position was awkward, Dean on his knees in attempt to support all of his little brother’s weight, lips pressed against Sam’s ear as he gasped, the words slowly coming to make sense in his head. “I- I’m so sorry Sammy I-“  
He was interrupted by a new wave of tears, whimper tearing through Sam, his chest heaving as he pressed himself even closer, not fully seated on the bench anymore, almost slipping into his brother’s lap, like a puppy, trying to snuggle even closer to his mother’s warmth.  
“I missed – I missed my flight Sammy I’m so fucking sorry, had to wait, lost my phone I- I’m so fucking sorry Sammy…”  
Sam had still not calming down, but the timbre of Dean’s voice did a great job at getting his mind to recognize that his brother was actually, in fact, not dead, but very much alive and holding him, pressing him close to his chest.   
“I’m not gonna leave ya Sammy, never, you’re save Sammy, we’re good, we’re alive, we’ll live…”  
The words clung together, blurring into a string of sentences that meant much less than the actual voice telling him this, the voice that he’s known his whole life, the voice that will forever be able to get him back from where he had tripped over the edge.  
“We’re gonna be okay, we’re gonna go back to the hotel…I’m gonna make you feel good Sammy, gonna calm you down, gonna wrap you up and hold you until you have to peel me off, will stay by your side forever baby, forever baby boy…”  
Sam’s breaths were becoming less ragged, his chest heaving less with every intake of air as he still clutched onto his big brother, hands coming to slowly stroke Dean’s back, not in a very intimate matter but more so to assure himself that this – this was real.  
Dean was real.  
He was breathing, healthy and talking to him.  
“Please be strong baby boy, can’t hold you like this, we gotta get to the motel baby…you think you can do that?”  
There was no sarcasm or snark in his voice, just a genuine question and Sam softly nodded, still not back to his full senses, but having regained most of himself, he nodded, letting himself be pulled up and to his feet by Dean, nose clogged and lips puffy.  
He hadn’t come with any stuff, thinking that he and Dean wouldn’t spend much time at the airport anywhere – a quick look on the clock as they were walking out told him, that he had been waiting for more than two hours.  
But everything was gonna be okay now – Dean was okay.  
Dean was living, Dean wasn’t dying, he was breathing, walking, pushing him into the seat of the Impala softly, before getting in on the other side.   
Almost immediately, his strong hand came to grip Sam’s thigh tightly, rubbing little circles into the skin and even though Sam wasn’t crying any more, and even though he was breathing normally again, it still felt incredibly good to just feel his brother.   
Feel that he was real.  
That he was okay.  
And he would be okay.   
They both would be.  
Just like they always were.  
They were okay when they went on their first hunt as a two-piece and the ghost almost ripped Sam’s head off, they were okay when Dean crashed the Impala and they had to tell John, they were okay when they started fighting with demons and Dean sold his soul for his younger brother- and they would always be okay.  
Because that was their life’s way of making up for all the shit that was happening – they got through it. They were strong enough to get through it.  
And when Dean finally pulled up next to the motel Sam had booked them a room in, Sam was almost fully back to normal, only his hands still shaking as he was pulled down onto the bed by a strong pair of arms, only his lips quivering as they were kissed by Dean, tongue slipping in between. His hands came up to find his brother’s bare skin, reminding himself that what he was feeling was real, that this wasn’t just some kind of fever dream he was having, still sitting at the airport as Dean’s corpse was laying in the dark of some kind of woods.  
And when he was opened up, slow and sweet, his chest was heaving with lust this time, his hands gripping Dean’s back as his brother pushed into him, drawing sweet, high whimpers and moans out of Sam as he could do nothing but clutch to Dean, pounding him into the mattress with grunts and sighs.  
And when they both reached their highs, it was as they were laying in each other’s arms, remaining in the same position for about 30 more minutes, worshiping each other’s bodies with soft strokes and feathery light kisses.  
And they were going to be okay.  
Because that’s just what they did.  
They lived.


End file.
